


Spilling The Milkshake: Ch.1

by ofproperform



Series: Spilling The Milkshake Series [1]
Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Musicals)
Genre: Alcohol warning, Other, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, haruseiya brotp, sorry for the lovelorn losers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofproperform/pseuds/ofproperform
Summary: One's a Popstar with a new record coming out, one's a nurse with a promising career, but both are love-scorned. It's time and space that bring them together but milkshakes that put them in this predicament. Perhaps love won't always escape them.Ch.1 of my slowburn fanfiction





	

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Alcohol, language, death mention, war mention, apologies for all the dorks.

     Today was **not** Seiya’s day, not by a long-shot; he’d been drenched by a youma before he’d been able to transform, had an uncomfortably long staring contest with Haruka, and had one of those ‘talks’ with Mamoru. Again. By now the whole gang was sitting in their favorite place, Crown Cafe, nursing sweet milkshakes, and he was wondering when it was socially acceptable for him to say it was time for him to go take a shower to wash the still-lingering scent of stale water from his hair, and nurse his wounds in the expensive bottle of really dark rum he’d bought himself.

     Setsuna wasn’t having a much better day, either. The normal, clock-work routine, Hotaru was sick most of the day (oh, kid germs,) and to top it off she arrived to the celebratory diner-dinner just in time for Mamoru and Usagi to kiss and swap affectionate jabs before Rei interjected. I’m over it, she repeats in her head, and reminds herself of the steady future for the fated king and queen, as well as her own future. She strides towards familiar blonde and teal hair and pulls off the cardigan she’s wearing, the brisk air outside just enough to need it. She sits down with her fellow outers, gives them an update on their ill charge. The Mau were comfortably curled up at Hotaru’s feet and should the minor cold get any worse one of them would contact her. Plus Chibiusa was there, confidently watching over (read: sleeping next to) her best friend. Talking Cats and Little Lady, the trio of parents could relax for a moment.

     They’re at the same table as Seiya, Setsuna sitting beside him, as he eagerly plots his exit. He’s going to spill his milkshake on his shirt, and after apologizing he’ll slip into the night. A few jabs from Haruka and Rei and probably Minako, he’ll live. Haruka pipes up, leaning over the table to knuckle his shoulder “you look like you’re plotting a murder over there, starboy, relax,” before she laces her fingers back together with Michiru’s. His eyes blink and widen as he realizes he’s been frowning and staring down at the table, gaze focused on the glass rim of the milkshake cup. He clears his throat, and shrugs.

     “Easy for you to say, you’re not plotting your solo comeback.”

       “That’s so difficult, you’re gonna write a cheesy bop about unrequited love and it’ll top the charts.”

     He flushes and looks away from Haruka, who gets a healthy elbow to her ribs from the teal haired woman beside her. His eyes land on the steady gaze of Setsuna; she’s looking at him unblinking, but not harshly. It is intense in that he’s noticed everything she does is so-- he wonders why all those protecter senshi they dubbed the outer senshi are so intense, even the little one. Her lips part and she speaks softly, a chuckle capping her words.

     “I’d buy it.”

     There’s a hush over the table and Seiya grins with softness and then it all happens in a rush of sound and clumsiness.

     He does not knock his milkshake over intentionally, it’s pure accident as he leans against the table and towards her to continue this line of conversation. Suddenly pastel liquid gushes across his black button down and he is wearing mango as a new accessory.

     “Shit.” he whines and shakes his shirt as he tries to get some of it off-- this is the clear wrong move, as it shakes onto dark jeans and over his arms in peachy flecks against his creamy skin. 

     “Great going Starboy.” There’s a snort there as Haruka stands, adjusts the drinks on her side of the table, and leans over to help her friend clean up by offering her own napkin.

     “Oh, Seiya.” Michiru passes over her napkin as well, shaking her head. Her napkin is passed to Setsuna, whos billowy maxi-dress has flecks of milkshake over its side in a shadow’s frame. It’s like stardust on her dark skin, as well, the pale orangeish frecks.

     “It’s okay, I think we’ll just, go get cleaned up.” Setsuna stands up as she wipes her own arm off using the napkin offered, and looks at the others. The table full of younger, giddy girls has not noticed the debacle yet, their booth alive with crammed in energy, all huddled over their drinks and food and all of them talking over one another. “Will you two text me when you head home so I can make sure the light is on outside?” Setsuna adds, smiling softly, barely registerable. Seiya has yet to stand, still dealing with wiping off the pool of milkshake that had landed in his lap.

     “Walk me home, Seiya?” Setsuna asks.

     Seiya turns his head fast enough to regret it, neck aching immediately, wincing. He nods, standing up from the booth ungracefully. There are dark spots all over his outfit, and he grabs for his (thankfully) unscathed jacket and offers it to her.

     “No, I think you need that. I have my own.” She pulls her cardigan back on and smiles. He smiles goofily up at her, running spindly fingers through his dark hair. She blinks, long lashes brushing dark cheeks and he realizes she’s waiting for him to lead the way so he blushes and scrambles to wave towards the door. He waves a quick goodbye to Minako who spots the pair, and Minako waves back, blowing a cheeky and welcome kiss.

     She’ll probably text him tomorrow morning to ask him what he’s up to.  
They exit and the cold air hits them, the street so much louder than the hectic diner. Crown Cafe is loud, but this is a cacophany. He wraps his jacket around himself and offers his arm to her, which she accepts awkwardly. The small starlight and the tall time guardian look a disjointed pair, her holding his upper arm and he with his hand over hers, walking in silence for a full minute.

     “Do you want to grab a drink?” Seiya asks finally with a weird sense of expectancy-- he’s sure she’ll say no, decline, remind him she’s got work in the mor- “Sure.”

     Sure.  
       Oh.

     He laughs nervously and nods, before moving in the direction of a bar he knows. He goes there when he needs a new idea; something good, something that will catch the listener and keep them there.

     He’s actually writing a song like what Haruka described. He think it’s so pitiful but he’s got the emotion for it. So many people have been in those shoes, right?

     “Who did you love?” She asks. He how subtle she is, asking him this way rather than digging through potentials. He assumes she’d either not paid attention to his failed attempts to make Usagi feel a way she would never feel, or that she was playing dumb so he could keep his ego from deflating any further. Either way he was grateful. He scratches at the corner of his nose and looks down while he thinks of ways to word this.

     “Your princess, Usagi.” He shrugs his shoulders as they keep walking and gently, almost as if he might miss the sensation, he realizes she rubs his arm with her thumb, and he feels her hand shift on his skin. “For a while I thought, maybe if I show her how I feel it’ll sway her. But she’s got someone and they both love each other and it’d be cruel to come between that. I can’t help not being the right person.”

     Setsuna is not good at finding words to comfort someone but this is a subject she could handle well. Often times when the younger senshi have trouble sleeping, remembering the trouble of Beryl and the nightmare that was, she feels the sharp jabs of regret for having not been able to help her comrade-now-friends. The self proclaimed Queen who wanted Endymion, how alike were she and Pluto? How sad must it be, that one turned to chaos to achieve her ends and one stayed like a loyal pup at the gates of time, no matter how her heart was breaking. She wonders what it would have been like had they been flipped. She knows what that pain Beryl felt was. She wishes she’d been there; perhaps if someone had been there to tell Beryl that she’s worth more than this frivolous unrequited love she wouldn’t have turned to Chaos, maybe she would have stood for the Moon and Earth Kingdoms and even blessed Serenity and Endymions unions. She doesn’t know if that answer will ever be one she thinks she wants to know.

     She’s snapped from her momentary thought as Seiya’s voice brings her back, “you?” He’s caught on by the look that is centuries away and tracing paths that have no beginning or end, far-away and distant. She stops the everlight rub on his arm.

     “Her beloved. Mamoru.” The words drips from Setsuna’s lips and she’s staring ahead. Seiya’s stance shifts and they halt walking; people are passing them, but they stand still as if they have lost time but time has not lost them. “I fell in love with him from my gates-- I would die for him. I do.” The two words, said simply, send shivers over Seiya. “But, similarly, he will always love the Queen and part of me loves him more for that. How faithful and wonderful that is.”

     “Yeah, it’s pretty spectacular. It’s like a cosmic phenomenon.” Seiya almost sounds like he envies this thing that Mamoru shares with Usagi; it must be special to love someone so much that death cannot deny it and love itself has defied the laws of that death. He thinks of the stories he’s heard while Minako does his makeup- of how Usagi was a princess from the moon, reborn after her kingdom was destroyed, and her beloved was from the earth kingdom similarly destroyed. He spent hours getting filled in on what was to the senshi ancient history, their enemies, their backstories, all from a comfortable seat on Minako’s floor at two am.

     “Funny how we both love people who are destined to be with each other and not us.”

     “Funny is right.” Seiya laughs but it’s melancholy. They look at each other and the sad eyes they lock are brief as they look away quickly, laughing loudly and awkwardly as they both look between shopsigns and her gentle grip becomes a tug and she leads him to the bar he’d been mentioning.

     The bar is a clean little thing, white walls covered in brightly colored art, dull colorful lights displaying the sponsored alcohol and also little signs in those neon lights that cast soft fuzzy glows over the tables and booths. They found a booth not occupied or in need of wiping down, and as she started to sit he waited.

     “What do you want to drink?” He asks as he undoes the buttons on his coat. She ponders only a second before answering. “A Purple Cosmopolitan, please dear,” she answers, and he walks off. He hates ordering drinks-- he always stumbles over his answer to ‘what’ll you have?’ as the bartender eyes him, curious to know what he’ll say. He orders the drinks, bringing them back in a matter of minutes. A rum runner and a cosmo that has the lightest sheen of purple over its usual sisterly pinkish.

     “Here you go,” he hums as he sides in on the other side, sipping his reddish-orange drink quietly for a moment. She hums a ‘thank you,’ as he pulls his phone out and drops it on the table. The screen lights up briefly; the background a pretty magazine photoshoot snap from when he’d let a magazine cover his first return performance-- it’s the silhouette of him swallowed in deep red light on a pitch black stage from behind, his sides are flanked by a blue and green light where bouquets stood in place of his bandmates.

     Setsuna’s eyes flick between the phone and it’s slowly fading screen to Seiya. “Do you miss them?” She asks, gesturing with one finger to the phone. He shrugs and nods, fingers flexing as he drums them over the phone.

      “Yeah, it’d be hard not to. They’re home-- Kinmoku- and I’m here by myself.” The decision was not made on whim. What is days to Earth is Months to Kinmoku, and he had agonized over the decision for months as they rebuilt the ruins of their home. He helped them revive Kinmoku and then left home to come to Earth.

     “Well you have everyone here.” Setsuna gives the gentle correction to his aloneness, before he looks over with a very stern expression which even takes her by surprise.

     “Do you think the same way for yourself? Do you tell that to yourself? Sound very convincing.” His question is less question than it is something holding its own answer; he feels like an island, lonely and isolated, perhaps his own doing, and he thinks she’s the same way. She is, even if she lives together with Haruka, Michiru and Hotaru, and raises the latter girl. She sighs and sips her cosmopolitan, lips pressing to the rim, darkly painted lips flattening over the glass as she closes her eyes.

     “You have an excellent way of shoving your own fist down your throat Seiya. Making your points seem meaner than they really are.” She looks at him through her thick lashes and he swallows the lump in his throat, clearing it.

     “Sorry,”

     “Don’t be. You’re right. You’re awfully bad at delivery but you’re right.” There’s a painful and pregnant pause, where they sip their drinks and when he notices just the faintest remainder of a drink left in her glass he is shot up from his seat in uncomfortable eagerness to order another drink for them, staying at the bar until they were firmly in his hands. As he offers her the purplish drink she brushes her hand over his.

     “I’m not reprimanding you Seiya. I’m not Michiru.” She offers, and the tension rolls off of him and he’s sure somehow she can see it crash like a wave onto the floor. He slides into his booth and he nods just a little.

     There’s idle chitchat-- she’s surprisingly a fan, playing the music the pop idols had created when she wasn’t busy with work-- admits that it often plays in the house (something he knows Haruka will never admit to but he’ll store that info away,) and that Hotaru always really thought Yaten was cute, and that she was particularly fond of Taiki’s stoic passion (for a moment he chuckles under his breath, because of-course she’d like him. Didn’t he say in an interview he’d wanted to be a doctor after everything was said and done? -- Now he’s on Kinmoku teaching healing to the few people that have become refugee citizens.)

    They talk about how school is going for everyone-- how he’s transferred from Juuban to a different high school, how he’s focusing on his music career but still making decent marks (and how he keeps up his spot on the american football team because his manager thought it was good show,) how he’s struggling with history. They joke that maybe they should come together for study nights, then, if he’s faltering so badly in that department.

     As the night winds down they’re hovering over their now-empty glasses, smiling and laughing and leaning towards one another over the table. It’s easy and gentle conversation, light and frothy, and by the time the busboy buzzed over to inform them it was closing time, Setsuna was happy to gently grab for her purse and to take the offered arm of Seiya.

     They walk together for a few moments in the crisp air; most of the passersby and street-life is dead by now, the world outside the bar is still and quiet. It feels like it has stopped turning, like life and time has stopped. The stars can be seen, a surprise with this air pollution.

     They head to the sidewalks edge, him throwing up a hand to wave down a cab-- at this time of night it’s easier to get a hold of one even if it is slower to find one. It looks so silly-- he looks like he’s waiting to answer a teachers question. She helps, long arm raised high into the air, fingers ficking back to signal as a taxi rounded the corner and started to slow noticing them. As it stopped she stepped into the street and pulled him along. They slipped into the back quietly, Seiya leaning on the door once they were settled inside and off to their first destination.

     As his breath made little steam shapes on the window he felt the sensation of the evening waft over him-- the strange blanket every get-together or coffee or drinks has, where people sit in humming silence and relax.

     Setsuna looks over at him, thinking. He has all the qualities of attractiveness just like her King does, but he’s unbearably trying hard to be something he isn’t; put together, happy, he is staring out of a taxi window watching street lamps humming one of Minako’s songs about smiling to make yourself happy-- it’s not making him smile. When she clears her throat he shocks back into reality and looks over, smiling at her. It’s forced, he’s tired, but a good actor he is.

     “Hmm?”

       “We’re almost here. Oh Look, Haruka and Michiru left the lights on for me.”

     “They’re good people.” Seiya adds, curling up on his side of the cab, smiling. “I can see why you all get along so well.”

     He focuses on her for a moment. He’s tipsy enough to think everything is pretty wonderful tonight and that the previous maladies of the evening, the sulking and morose feeling of watching Usagi and Mamoru can take the backseat at the moment. The taxi cab stalls in front of the drive and he pays the fare before walking her to the door, waiting as she unlocks the door.

     “It’s been a wonderful evening, Seiya. Thank you.”

     “I’ll spill milkshakes on us more often,” he jokes before pushing open the door for her. She steps through the threshold and on either side of the doorway they look at one another and a shared chuckle passes between them, barely above a murmur.

     “Please do. Have a good night.” She says, leaning down towards him to press the gentlest kiss to his cheek.

     And then he walked, awkwardly, away back to the waiting taxi.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave comments, criticism, and feedback.


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